The Night of the Magical Dead
by BlueJuvenal
Summary: A Quidditch match turns deadly for Morgan, James, and their family. All characters are original, with concepts by J. K. Rowling.


**Friday, October 28****th****, 5:33 PM**

Boris pulled up to the small white house and turned off the engine to his car. He stepped out and took a deep breath. The air was cool and lively, and yet he felt the beautiful autumnal atmosphere was wasted in this neighborhood. There were hardly any trees, and Boris loved trees, their arching majesty, the shade they provided, the sounds they added to any scenery. Trees were beautiful, because they took a great deal of time to grow. He always hated these newer, graceless developments, the way they were so haphazardly constructed, totally oblivious to the eternal qualities of nature.

He knocked on the door. A large dog began barking from within. After a couple of seconds the door was opened by a woman wearing what looked to Boris like a billowy, black dress. The dog, an overgrown Labrador retriever, growled behind her, but did not approach him. Boris saw that the animal's eyes were completely white; there were no pupils. Boris instinctively took a step back from the doorway.

"What do you want?" The woman asked impolitely.

Boris turned his attention again to the woman. He noticed that her graying hair was sticking up in certain areas of her head, and there was an enormous wart on her chin. Boris put his hands behind his back and attempted a smile.

"I'm here to see Karl? I called earlier."

The woman, unmistakably, leaned her head over the threshold and sniffed him. Boris fluttered his eyelids and tried to act normal. He was hoping very much at this point that Karl was not home and he could go on his way. The woman muttered a phrase that sounded like 'mug gals' and gestured for Boris to step into the house. Boris did so.

The inside of the house was dank and smelled of cigarette smoke and squalid dog hair. By the one window in the living room, a large, wooden radio was broadcasting what sounded like a news program. Boris saw that the sea green carpets were speckled everywhere with cigarette burns. The woman shuffled into the small, dining room and opened a door next to a crooked hutch.

"Karl! Someone's here to see you!" The woman screamed harshly.

Boris saw the dog trot into the kitchen next to the dining room. He heard a male voice from below.

"Send him down!"

The woman pointed to the descending stairs behind the door. Boris walked down the steep, creaky steps and into a furnished basement. The concrete floor was littered with magazines. The plaster board walls were covered with posters; fantastical monsters, lascivious women wearing nothing but witching hats, and a pale, bald man with slits for nostrils and red, serpentine eyes all seemed to watch him as he took each stair. On a worn, plaid armchair, a pudgy, young man with receding hair was working on a laptop computer. He seemed to be wearing the same black dress as the woman above. Leaning against his arm rest was a stocky, wooden staff topped by a sooty, human skull. The young man was typing earnestly.

"Boris, right?"

Boris reached the bottom and tried not to step on any of the magazines. "That's me."

"I'll be with you in a second. You know, as a collective, you Muggles are pretty weak, but in terms of communications and information gathering, you got us beat ten-fold."

Boris didn't reply to this cryptic statement, but he thought he recognized the word 'Muggles'. Karl finished his typing and put the laptop computer on the heavily-nicked coffee table next to his chair.

"So Tito told you about me? Funny guy, ain't he? What can I do for you?"

"Well, you see, I had this gig lined up for tomorrow night, a haunted house to spook the kids with. Only problem is, the guys I had playing zombies backed out on me this morning, and I can't find anybody to take their places."

Karl stared at Boris for a second. Boris found his patchy facial hair at that moment repugnant. Karl folded his chubby hands over his belly as he opened his mouth.

"So you want me to find you zombies for a haunted house?"

Boris understood how ridiculous the request sounded, but he tried not to blink or fidget. Tito sounded pretty confident about this guy, and Boris was fairly sure Karl at this point was just sizing him up. Karl put one foot up on the coffee table.

"You do realize that I can't ask for anything less than two hundred, right?"

Boris nodded slowly. "That's fine, as long as you can deliver."

"What do you have going on for the rest of the night?"

Boris blinked. "Not much, I guess."

Karl pushed himself off the chair. Boris looked at the deep impression his buttocks made in the cushion, and the snack-sized potato chip bags compressed against the edges. Karl waddled over to the stairs, not bothering to side-step the magazines.

"Mom! I'm going out for a while!" He shouted at the top of his lungs.

The dog barked. Boris heard Karl's mother yell.

"Take the trash out before you do!"

Karl shook his head in frustration, but then grinned. He walked back over to the chair and picked up the skull-crowned staff.

"Mr. Boris, sir, I think you're going to like what I have to offer."

**6:00 PM**

James leaned back in the sofa and drummed his fingers on the pillows beside him. Sitting on the other side of the living room, in deep, mystical concentration, was his witch cousin, Morgan. She was slowly guiding her short, swarthy wand back and forth against his firearm, whispering incantations to herself every now and then. The wand tip was glowing from red, to green, to purple. After a minute and a half she pulled her wand away and exhaled. She handed the weapon back to James and flashed him a smile.

"There you go. You are to be extra cautious with it, now."

James replaced his sidearm in his holster. He felt giddy. "I can't believe you did it! Infinite rounds!"

Morgan leaned back. "The magic will only work when you are the one firing it. If someone else finishes off that clip, the spell will dissipate."

James shook his head in exhilaration. He could feel his face and ears glow. Very cool of you, Morgan! Wait until the guys at the office see this!"

Morgan rolled her eyes. "Well, considering all the help you've given me, it's probably the least I can do."

Confessor, Morgan's tall, wizard husband, walked into the living room and looked out the window. He was wearing bright white robes that seemed to emit a faint glow. He squinted against the dying light of the sun. "I think your fiancée just pulled up, James."

James stood up and grabbed his jacket. There was a sound of pattering feet outside the front door, followed by a timid knock. Morgan clapped her hands once and the door slowly opened. Jaime crossed the threshold and shyly looked around.

"Is it okay if I come in?"

Confessor crossed his dark arms against his chest and smiled. "If it wasn't, you wouldn't be standing where you are."

Jaime relaxed and gave James a hug. "This is going to be so wild! Thank you so much, guys, for the invite! You sure this is okay?"

"Just stay close to Con and I, and there shouldn't be any problems." Morgan advised her.

James looked at his cousin. "Can I flash my Auror badge if anyone bothers her?"

Morgan didn't bother to answer James and instead walked to the staircase by the kitchen. James watched as her emerald robes caught the light from the dining room candles and shimmered like a sea of stars. She gave a quick whistle.

"Come on, girls, we're getting ready!"

A door from the upstairs sounded and two young witches rushed down the steps. Both were dressed in blood-red robes with black stripes. Their dark, wide-brimmed, pointed hats were already fastened to their heads. Morgan ushered them into the living room.

"Circe, dear, why don't you introduce Xema to our guests."

Circe, the young witch with the light skin and dark hair, nodded with embarrassment. "Hi, guys. This is my friend, Xema. This is Agent James and Ms. Jaime."

Xema was the same height as Circe, but had olive skin and lighter hair. She smiled.

Jaime bent down low. "So, Xema, will this be your first time Apparating? It'll be mine!"

Circe laughed and shook her head. Morgan pulled off the dining room wall a sleek, finely sanded, broomstick and a green silk witch's hat. James admired the hawk feathers decorating the topside of the brim. Morgan donned it and smirked.

"You know, when we go to Quidditch games, we go in style."

All color flooded from Jaime's face as she straightened up. "Are you serious? No way. ."

After grabbing a thick broom from behind the sofa, Confessor produced from his white robes a small bottle with a pink liquid inside. "Jaime, just drink this, and you'll feel better about it."

After giving the potion to Jaime, Confessor held the broom out horizontally. "Stand clear, everyone."

Confessor gave the broom a sharp shake; immediately, it shot out in size by an additional ten meters.

"Mommy, why can't I ride with you?" Circe pouted.

Morgan tousled the ribbons on top of Circe's hat. "Because, pumpkin, if anything goes wrong in the air, I can take care of it faster if I'm alone."

Circe sighed and made for the front door. Confessor drew his wand and lit it while Morgan waved hers, extinguishing all the house lights. James could tell, beneath her radiant smile, Morgan was a little nervous. She called out into the dusk.

"Are we ready?"

**6:26 PM**

Boris ran over a thick, rotted branch in the road. Karl farted loudly.

"Dude, I thought you knew how to drive."

"Well it is pretty dark out here. With all the rain we had, there's bound to be some down branches."

Boris was trying to keep his mood level, but he was having a tough time of it. Karl was proving to be a big, fat nuisance. After leaving the house, he made Boris drive him to a Mexican fast-food restaurant. Then, he insisted on Boris paying for his meal. To top it off, he behaved rudely to their female server after she brushed off his tasteless advances. Boris wasn't sure if she particularly cared that he was a 'wizard', whatever he meant by that.

"So, Boris, what do you do when it's not Halloween?"

"Oh, just odd jobs here and there. Sometimes I get hired out as a handyman."

Karl gave a disparaging head-shake. Boris, affronted, glared at him.

"And what about you? What's your story?"

"Me? Well, one day I hope to enslave the non-magical race and rule as a Dark Lord."

Boris found it impossible to tell if Karl was kidding or not. He decided to drive the rest of the way in silence, wherever they were going.

After five minutes, Karl gestured towards a graveyard on the right of the road.

"Okay, pull in here and turn off the lights."

"What? Why here?"

Karl sighed dramatically. "It's audition time."

**6:40 PM**

Jaime screamed with joy into the frosty, night sky. She tapped Confessor on his back as he sat at the front driving the broom. She watched his long dreadlocks whip behind him like a gorgon's savage hair.

"Confessor, your impervious charm is working great! I can't feel the wind at all!"

"Thanks!" Confessor shouted back.

"So why are you wearing bright, white robes?"

Confessor steered the broom around a crimson cloud. "I'm a Healer! I need to be easily identifiable!"

For some reason, Jaime found this fact funny and started chortling. Circe tapped her on the back.

"Ms. Jaime, please, could you like not yell? Your saliva is hitting me in the face!"

"Sorry, Circe!"

Jaime looked down and wished she could capture the thrill forever in her mind. Below her feet twinkled the hundreds and hundreds of street, car, and house lights from the passing neighborhoods. She glanced ahead and to her right; in the distance, the skyline of Philadelphia was taking shape, and swerving in front of it, awash in moonlight, was Morgan, James' cousin. Jaime looked at her lean form crouched expertly on the broom, her long, red hair blowing out behind her, her pointy, exotic hat, and her wild, lashing robes and guessed no one ever better fitted the image of a witch.

Confessor turned his head slightly and yelled to Jaime, Circe, Xema, and James. "We're coming down!" Just so there was no misunderstanding, he vividly pointed downward with his finger. Jaime held onto the broom as tight as she could as the trees below them loomed larger. She was very thankful Confessor's bravery potion was lasting as long as it did.

The five of them dipped suddenly and finally Jaime felt a spasm of fear. She wanted to ask Confessor if everything was okay, but decided it was better if he concentrate on steering. The trees before them parted and in the middle was a small clearing. Jaime could distinguish several lights of different color. She watched Morgan zoom in front of them and land on the grassy turf first. The ground surged upward, and Confessor deftly slowed the broom down and brought it to a gentle halt on the earth.

"Everyone still alive back there?" Confessor asked as he dismounted. Jaime pushed herself off the broom and was surprised to find her legs very wobbly. She lurched to one side, but James caught her.

"You okay, cowgirl?"

Jaime opened her mouth to answer, but then observed her surroundings. They had landed in a small field, and they were not alone. At least five hundred strangely clad men and women were milling around, laughing, and talking. Many were wearing red robes with black stripes, some were sporting robes of lime green, and all were carrying wands, of which most were lighted at the tips. Jaime saw a short, knobby creature approach Confessor and offer him a numbered card. Confessor reached into his robes, pulled out a shiny, gold coin, and gave it to the creature, who in turn gave Confessor the card. The creature then grabbed the broom and walked away with it.

"Don't be too freaked out; it's a goblin, and he's going to store Connie's broom until after the match." Morgan explained as she walked up to Jaime.

"What about your broom?" Jaime asked curiously.

"Auror brooms are kept separately at a convenient location close to the pitch."

James was staring at Morgan. "Wait, you're on duty tonight?"

Morgan gave a short laugh and then looked at James seriously and a little wearily. "Aurors are always on duty."

Confessor strode up to his wife. In his wake Circe and Xema were giggling and eating candy out of bags. They looked around and Circe gasped.

"Daddy! Sally and her parents are here! Can I go say hi?"

"Sure, sweetheart."

Circe and Xema raced off and Confessor pointed.

"The pitch is across the street. By day it serves as a Muggle soccer field, but tonight it is ours."

Jaime looked over at the soccer field; it appeared completely empty and non-magical.

"I don't get it. I don't see anything."

"You will once you get to the other side of the street." Confessor responded.

Jaime looked around her and felt overwhelmed. "Are there usually this many people at Quidditch matches?"

Morgan shook her head. "It's actually a pretty low turn-out. The Haddonfield Clots and the West Friendship Wyrms are near the bottom of the Middle Atlantic League and don't stand a chance to make the playoffs."

Confessor chuckled. "It _should_ be the Haddonfield Wyrms. Wizarding researchers have found evidence that most of this town once played home to a large family of dragons over ten thousand years ago."

Jaime's eyes widened. "That's amazing!"

"No, what's really amazing is that some Muggle scientists found out and had to have their memories modified. Now everyone thinks the remains that were dug up are dinosaur bones."

James looked at Morgan coldly. "I thought psychic manipulation was illegal."

Morgan watched Circe and Xema. "Unauthorized, and with Dark intent, it is."

Some witches and wizards approached Morgan and Confessor and shook their hands. Jaime and James were in turn introduced to them. Jaime found the magicians polite and friendly, but she was a little unnerved by their fascination with her lack of magical abilities. She felt like something between an overgrown child and a rare animal in a zoo.

Finally, after about a hundred more witches and wizards touched down in the field on brooms, everyone started moving towards the street. Morgan grabbed Circe and Xema by both hands and guided them forward. At the edge of the road a wizard in yellow robes stood and watched for traffic. When no more cars appeared on either side, he turned around and commanded everyone to cross. Swiftly, and without talk, the entire mass of magicians walked across the street onto the other side. When Jaime's feet touched the grass past the gravel, she looked up in shock; instead of a deserted soccer field, above her were rows of massive, extremely high grandstands. The entire grounds were lit by floating orbs of white light placed evenly around a manicured, oval pitch. Three large hoops of differing heights were standing tall at each end of the field on long poles. At midfield by the sidelines a large, silver, square mirror was hovering above the ground.

"So what's the mirror for?" James asked Confessor.

"It's so witches and wizards at home can scry the match."

Jaime was taken aback. "So it's like a television camera! Wow!" Jaime suddenly found something strange. "Hey, if Muggles can't see this, then how come James and I can?"

Confessor looked Jaime in the eye. "Because you believe in magic."

**7:19 PM**

Boris leaned against the car. A squadron of gnats was bouncing against his face. He was best trying to figure out how to broach with Karl the subject of a refund. They were both standing around a cemetery, on a Friday night, and Karl was whispering something sinister to his skull staff out by the graves. Boris thought it might be best if he called the police; they might be able to have this guy examined by a shrink. He opened up the lid of his cell phone when he witnessed something disturbing.

The eye sockets on the blackened skull started to glow red. Boris had a couple good looks at the staff throughout the evening; he was sure it was made of real wood, and was not a cheap, plastic, battery-operated bauble usually purchased at the drug store. In any case, the light emanating from the skull did not look like anything a toy company could manufacture. He pushed off against the car and approached Karl.

"What's going on?"

Karl, without ceasing his incantation or taking his eyes away from the staff, raised his palm to Boris as an indication to be silent. A minute later he stopped whispering and looked up.

"What were you saying?"

"I was saying what the heck are we doing here?"

Karl glanced around him at the grave markers. A large walnut tree towered behind him, devoid of all its leaves.

"Haddonfield is one of the oldest settlements around here; do you even know how many bodies must be buried in its soil?" Karl brushed him off with a verbal gesture and raised the glowing staff. Boris stepped back.

"How is it doing that?"

Karl shook his head in annoyance. "Listen, Boris, it might be best if you get back to the car. I'm going to see what I can dig up," Karl cackled at his own wit. "And if it's anything good you'll be in tip-top shape for tomorrow night."

Boris attempted a retort, but before he could say anything, Karl raised the staff higher, far above his head. Silhouetted against the starry sky, he looked like an executioner about to decapitate his victim. He screamed something, and the entire skull glowed red. Boris at this point started backpedaling in earnest towards the car. He tripped on a grave stone and fell into the dirt. Karl brought the staff down forcefully, angrily; the skull hit the earth, and Boris heard a deep, echoing thud. Nothing seemed to happen.

Karl looked around inquisitively. He reached behind and scratched his back end. "That's odd."

**7:27 PM**

Morgan settled down in her seat next to Confessor and James. To her left Circe and Xema were laughing at something. She took a deep breath as the referee walked out to the center of the pitch. Confessor pointed something out to James, and Morgan saw on the field something pale blossom, like a cluster of mushrooms. The referee saw it too, but instead of investigating the fungus, he turned around and began running back to the sideline, waving his broom frantically above him. Morgan stood up and drew her wand. As she did so, the wood underneath her feet shook.

Circe and Xema screamed, and they were followed by dozens of surrounding witches and wizards. Morgan steadied herself and leaned over towards Confessor, who had drawn his wand and was staring at the pitch below.

"Con! Grab the girls!"

Morgan looked back down after she yelled this and froze in disbelief; on the grass far below her, pushing itself out of the earth, was a very large, very hideous skeleton. Its head was triangular in shape, and where its eyes should have been, two spheres of orange fire burned. Once it was completely free of the dirt, it planted its four feet, arched its soiled spine, and spread two fantastically wide, bony wings. It looked at the wooden grandstand, sensed the terror erupt from its rows, and let burst a volcanic roar. Morgan squinted against the white fire that vomited out of its mouth. She aimed her wand, but before she could cast her curse, she was deafened by the blast of gunfire; James had produced his Glock and was unloading it on the monster. Morgan saw a couple cracks appear on the angled skull, one of the eyes flicker out, and then the entire head shift and fall off into the grass. Though decapitated, the monster did not collapse, but instead began strutting toward the bleachers. Morgan pointed her wand again, and her aim was true; the curse hit the remaining eye of dancing flame in the severed skull. The fire went out, and the monster fell over in a jarring heap.

Morgan smelled wood burning and saw columns of smoke rise from the base of the grandstand. Everyone was now screaming, jostling each other out of the way, making a desperate push for the stairwells. Jaime, her face covered with tears, was holding onto Circe and Xema, while the two girls howled in horror.

"Mommy!" Circe shrieked.

Morgan's heart skipped a beat, but she refused to yield to panic. She yelled at Confessor.

"Connie! Summon the feathers!"

Without waiting for his reply, Morgan began twirling her wand around at the scattering people, slitting her eyes in concentration. In a steady, magical wave, from left to right, the entire crowd was transfigured into a flurry of small, brown feathers. Connie caught on to Morgan's plan and whipped his wand around at the feathers, sucking them into a bubbly, transparent space just above his head. Morgan heard a large crack, and the entire grandstands shifted to the right. She repositioned her feet, and after transfiguring Jaime, James, the children, and Connie, she grabbed them all in her hand and prodded with her wand the bubble full of feathers. She then shoved her wand between her teeth, and vigorously nodded her head; she instantly turned into a brown-eyed hawk. With the wand in her beak and the bubble in tow, she began beating her wings. Her talons lifted from the wood just as the entire structure of seats lurched forward and plummeted to the earth below, exploding in dust, smoke, and splinters.

**7:30 PM**

Boris rubbed his head where it hit a stone, and he heard a muffled explosion. Karl looked around, and after apparently deciding it was nothing, brought the staff back above his head. He shouted the same nonsensical word as before, and pummeled the black earth with the skull.

**7:31 PM**

Morgan landed on the other side of the pitch, away from the smoldering ruin. She transformed herself back, released the wand from her mouth, pointed it at the bubble, and magically scattered all the feathers around her. She flicked her wand around her head like a lasso, and as each feather touched down on the grass, a witch or wizard rematerialized. They all looked around in astonishment. Morgan threw from her grasp the five feathers she was holding, and jabbed her wand at them as they fluttered in the sky; Confessor, Circe, Xema, James, and Jaime became human once again. Circe ran at her mother.

"No, honey! Stay with Daddy!" Morgan commanded.

Confessor immediately examined the crowd of people, looking for signs of injury.

"Those wounded, come to me!" Confessor stabbed the space above his head and shot from his wand a streak of white sparks. Morgan was thankful she did not hear anyone approach her husband.

She kept her eyes focused on the wrecked grandstands. Suddenly, the earth shook once more; Morgan saw a mound off to the left rise into the air. She turned quickly to the crowd behind her.

"Those not fighting, flee! Flee now! Those fighting," she ripped her hat off, put it on the tip of her wand, and stretched her arm high; the hat spun around and glowed neon green. "To me! Fighters, to me!"

Most of the crowd dispersed, but a few able-minded witches and wizards stayed. Morgan watched as Jaime held onto Circe and Xema and led them away from the battleground. James and Confessor positioned themselves at Morgan's sides, aiming gun and wand respectively.

The bump of dirt split open, and crawling into the night was another skeletal monster. This one, Morgan noticed, was almost twice the size of the other. She hollered at her makeshift army.

"Whatever you do, do not use fire! You will end up scaring it into the town! Aim for its eyes! If you cannot get a good shot, take out its legs!"

Morgan began slashing her wand across her body, hurling curses at the demonic monster. The undead beast did not cringe as it took a step towards the group, even as many of its bones were blasted away from its body. One of its pale feet blew apart, and it fell to one side. Morgan struck out with her wand and put out both of its flickering eyes. Someone in the back cast a final curse, and the entire skeleton exploded. Morgan closed her eyes and started waving and flicking her wand in a specific motion before her.

**7:35 PM**

Boris had his mouth open. Karl searched around him in frustration. He smacked the ground in front of him with the staff three times, getting angrier with each hit.

"Come on, work, damn you!"

**7:36 PM**

"Are you okay?" Confessor asked his wife. Morgan nodded and ended her incantation.

"What do you suppose they were?" James asked breathlessly.

Morgan did not stop scanning the spoiled Quidditch pitch in front of her. "Dragons. Recalled and reanimated after millennia by an unseen, Dark instigator. Please, James, keep your piece aimed, I do not think. . ."

The grass cracked apart directly in front of Morgan, and a small, undead, baby dragon leapt up and splattered the army with fire. Two other monsters on each side of it did the same and encircled Morgan and her fighters in a hellish, white inferno. Morgan watched as the fire swarmed harmlessly around the enchanted barrier she constructed.

"Their flames are blocked! Attack, everyone, attack!"

The group unleashed their fury against the three monsters; skeletal arms, legs, tails, and wings were ripped apart and blown to dust. Morgan peered before her and made sure no evil orbs of fire burned. She kept her wand pointed.

"Stand fast, people!"

**7:39 PM**

Karl swore underneath his breath; he paid a lot of Galleons for this staff, and he was incensed that it was not working for him. He noticed that Boris was lying on top of a grave, looking at him pathetically. The Muggle could go rot, as far he was concerned, but if he didn't come through tonight, word would get out and he would lose a lot of business. He looked at the grimy skull, with its amber eye sockets, and shouted out hoarsely, slamming the staff into the dirt as he spat out each syllable.

"Why. .won't. .you. .freak. .in'. .work!"

**7:40 PM**

James held onto his gun with sweat-soaked fingers and an ailing shoulder, but he didn't dare lower his aim. To say he got more than he bargained for with this excursion was a pitiful understatement. He observed the displaced soil all around the Quidditch pitch, and the millions of bone shards lying scattered in the grass. He looked over at his cousin and her husband to make sure they were poised. They appeared fierce, feral. God it was great being related to them, he thought.

The ground once again shook all around them. James saw two more dragons emerge in front of him. In unison, he fired off his Glock while Morgan and Confessor cast their curses. The dragons, twins by the looks of them, crumpled onto the grass, their eyes blackening out and their bodies disintegrating. James stopped firing, and heard shouts behind him. He whipped around and saw three more zombie dragons. They attacked the rearguard with fire, but when they saw their breath weapons were having no effect, they started slashing at the witches and wizards with their skeletal claws. One bent low and started snapping its ancient teeth. A couple magicians fell over, and the rest scattered. James aimed his firearm, but Morgan stepped in front of him. Her face was layered with grime, sweat, and blood, but her eyes throbbed murderously.

"James! Con! Flank them! Flank them!"

James weaved around the monsters until he was behind them. Into their tails and spines he fired round after round, while Confessor incessantly swiped his wand, flinging off curses. James saw Morgan give her wand a shake as if there was a glob of offensive liquid on it; from the tip issued forth a long, bright sword of green fire. Morgan began slashing her improved weapon at the beasts, who squealed in fright. The three dragons turned around only to be brought down by James' gunfire and Confessor's curses.

Confessor hurried over to the fallen fighters while Morgan and the others kept watch on the grounds, their wands raised. James saw that two wizards each had an arm severed, and a witch was missing a leg. James looked away toward the fallen grandstands, and he spotted it; behind the tall pile of charred wood, a pair of bright, fiery orbs was glaring in his direction.

"Morgan! On your eight!"

James' cousin spun around and saw the dragon push the wreckage aside. It was at least six stories tall, with sharp spikes running down the center of its gargantuan skull. It's thorny, skeletal wings spanned at least a hundred meters. It continued to eye the group greedily. Morgan trotted backwards on her feet, looking terrified.

"It's the Inferius of a Great Wyrm! My shield won't be able. ."

The zombie dragon reared back and unleashed from its fanged mouth a continuous tube of red, vaporizing fire. Morgan, James, and the others still on their feet dove out of the way. Confessor, bent over a casualty, cast quick, tight circles in front of him with his wand; him, along with his patients, were whisked backwards, just as the fire crashed against the ground, incinerating grass, soil, dropped wands, and maimed limbs alike. Seeing all its prey still alive, the monster bellowed in fury. James looked at Morgan.

"How do you want to tackle this one?"

Morgan shook her head sullenly. "There has never yet been a Great Wyrm, alive or dead, that has fallen vanquished before witch or wizard."

James nodded and tried to keep the fear from showing in his face. "Summon your broom! Hurry!"

Morgan, without questioning her cousin, flicked her wand; her Auror's broom flew towards her from beyond the Quidditch pitch. She hopped on it, and James got behind her. They kicked off the ground and took to the air. The Great Wyrm saw the broom take off, and reared back again for another attack. It unleashed its red ball of destruction, but missed the broom twigs by millimeters. James yelled into Morgan's ear.

"Make one pass! I'll make it count!"

Morgan spiraled upward until she was level with the monster's head, and then swerved in front of the dragon's face. James knew he had only one shot; if he missed with his broadside attack, the beast would consume them effortlessly as they buzzed in front of its mouth. He wrapped his legs tightly around the broomstick and drew his Glock. James established his target window, and after taking careful aim, he fired. The first round struck the left orb, which was snuffed out. James aimed again, compensating for the zombie's redirected movement, and hit his second target as well. The remaining flame was quenched, and all the bones of the creature's body loosened and cascaded to the earth.

James and Morgan landed on the ground and raced over to Confessor. Morgan spoke to her standing lieutenants.

"Cover us while we help with the fallen!"

The witches and wizards kept their wands drawn and swept the field with their eyes. James watched as Confessor passed his wand over the stub of the witch's leg.

"What can we do?" Morgan asked quickly.

Confessor finished magically cleaning the wound. "Move them out. They'll live, all of them, but I won't be able to replace their limbs."

Morgan called over a wizard and two witches and instructed them to each carry a comrade away from the battlefield. James heard shouting from the street. He turned to Morgan.

"I think we have another problem."

**7:47 PM**

Boris got to his feet and backed away again from Karl. He had seen enough to know he should never have listened to Tito.

"You're crazy! I want my money back, you hear?"

Karl didn't appear to hear him. He examined his skull-topped staff.

"I don't understand why it won't work! It was glowing and everything!" Karl took the staff in one hand and dashed it to the ground. "What a piece of. . ."

After the skull smacked into a gravestone, Boris felt something rumble beneath his shoes. He looked at the walnut tree behind Karl and saw that its branches were vibrating. A couple of tombstones fell over, and Boris observed geysers of long-repressed oxygen shoot into the sky. He could hear something scraping, something clawing, something trying to get free. He backed against the car and watched in horror the cemetery come to life.

He didn't want to think about what was happening, what he was smelling, what he was witnessing; women with gray flesh hanging off their bodies, ripping their hair off their skulls so they could see better, and men with maggots oozing out of their ears, loosening the neckties they were buried in. All of them were furiously running at him. He fumbled with his keys and got the front door of his car to open after a second. He saw Karl climbing up the tree, his black robes catching on the branches, exposing momentarily his fattened bottom. Boris put the car in reverse and started to navigate the vehicle around the crumbling tombs. His car jolted and stopped suddenly. A fleshless hand was scratching at his side window. He pushed his foot down as hard as he could on the gas pedal, but the car did not budge. He poked around behind his seat looking for something, anything to defend himself with, but all he could find was Karl's paper soda cup from the restaurant.

The window beside him shattered, and he was peppered with sharp specks of glass. An arm folded itself behind the door and grabbed Boris by his neck. He started to scream in agony and desperately attempted to fight off his attacker. The last thing he saw as he twisted around was a blackened, toothy mouth close over his eyes and bite into his brain.

**7:52 PM**

Morgan and James sprinted off the pitch and looked down the road; running towards them, swiftly, was a large gang of Inferi. Morgan dropped her broom and growled.

"No! No more!"

She ran into the street and summoned James.

"Stand behind and give cover!"

James took a knee and aimed his Glock. Morgan, meanwhile, whipped her wand around in a circle, violently pleading with it in a fantastic tongue. The whole length of the stick burned red, and when the undead army was within range, she lashed it outwards in sharp flicks. From the tip of the wand exploded hundreds of flame-covered moths, all darting around the air, heading in the direction of the Inferi. James shouted at his cousin's back.

"I thought fire was a no-no!"

Morgan continued to strike with her wand. "It doesn't matter at this point!"

The heated swarm reached the zombies and buried themselves into their decrepit cavities of flesh. One by one, the monsters howled in pain and dropped to the macadam, their besieged bodies turning to ash. James did not release his finger from the trigger of his gun; scores of bullets rocketed from his Glock, devastating the remaining bones of the zombies' legs as they advanced.

After five minutes the cousins ceased their combined attack. Morgan watched the long avenue; for at least a half kilometer the road was completely blanketed with fetid, burning, human skin. Once she determined that no more Inferi were active, she picked up her broom and turned back to James.

"Come on. We have a graveyard to find."

**7:59 PM**

Karl fell out of the tree. He landed on his belly and grunted in agony. He looked around and was grateful all the Inferi left the cemetery and had not thought to rip him out of the branches. Boris' car was still running, but its tires were torn to shreds and the front, driver's side door was hanging limply off its hinges. There was a large pool of fresh blood underneath the vehicle.

Karl got up, brushed his black robes off, and casually began walking away from the empty graves. Perhaps he could make it back to the house on foot. He never passed his Apparition test, and he regretted the fact more than ever now.

Tomorrow he would wake up and read about this catastrophe in the papers, there would be a big stink, and then life would continue as normal. With Boris dead, Karl was at least glad of the fact that no one would know how he mishandled the Dark magic.

He realized that it might be a good idea to retrieve the staff, even though he hated the sight of it. He turned around and saw by the bare walnut tree a man standing tall. In the moonlight he looked like a Muggle, and shockingly he was holding the skull staff in his fist. He gestured with it towards Karl.

"I think you dropped this, junior."

Karl snarled in malice and drew his wand. He was never able to get off a proper Killing Curse, but tonight he would try his best. There was a sound behind him, and before he could face it, his wand flew out of his hand. A cold, thick, iron ring clamped itself around his legs. He yelped in panic and tumbled over against a broken grave marker. Once on the ground he discovered he couldn't maneuver his arms. He was pushing the dirt out of his mouth with his tongue when he felt someone standing by his side.

"Look, just take the staff! I don't want it anymore, I swear!" Karl whimpered.

A pair of slim, dusty boots appeared in front of his eyes. His wand was lit in his face. A witch with tattered green robes, wild red hair, and a crescent moon tattoo above her eye glared at him.

"You're coming with us. You have some answering to do."

Karl found the spite in her voice unmistakable. He squirmed a little and hoped his mom wouldn't let the dog take over the basement.

**9:42 PM**

Jaime sat huddled with Circe on a bench in a large, marble waiting room. Torches were flashing in their sconces on the walls, and owls were flying in and out of small windows close to the bronze ceiling. She didn't remember how she ended up at the magical law enforcement headquarters. After she left the Quidditch pitch she simply followed a few of the men and women in the sweeping, absurd robes.

Circe wiped her nose with the back of her hand and exhaled loudly. She did not look up. "Where's Mommy?" She asked for the one hundredth time. Jaime held her close and looked over the top of her head. Through a pair of large, oak doors witches and wizards were coming and leaving with haste.

"She'll be here soon, Circe."

When Xema's parents came for their daughter, they looked at Jaime in disbelief. Jaime stood up to greet them, but instead of waiting for her to speak, they grabbed their daughter by the hand and marched out of the complex without a look back. Afterwards, Jaime cried.

Out of all the things that went so terribly wrong tonight, Jaime strangely found their contempt the worst. Is this how all the magic-users she met earlier really felt about her? After all the excitement, the incredible and common experience, no bond was forged between Jaime and any witch or wizard. The terrors of the evening might as well have lived out as separate, indecipherable nightmares in everyone's mind. Jaime absently stroked Circe's head. Tonight, all the world's misunderstandings were horrific, bone-built monsters, consuming with their breath the ground Jaime always wanted to feel so secure on.

Circe forced herself out of Jaime's arms and ran at the doors. Jaime looked over and saw Morgan, James, and Confessor, all survivors of the storm. Jaime stood up as Morgan wrapped her arms around her daughter. James rushed over to Jaime and gave her a deep hug. His low voice was in her ear.

"You did great tonight, baby."

Jaime looked into his lively, blue eyes and nodded. She felt too weak to thank him.

Suddenly, she was pulled away from her fiancée and embraced by a pair of softer arms. Kind, compassionate words washed over her mind. As she listened, she cried again, though this time not from sadness.

"You're with us now, Jaime, and you'll always be with us." Morgan whispered proudly.


End file.
